


Box of Gold

by alba17



Category: Les Misérables (TV 2018)
Genre: Community: 100fandoms, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: Valjean fears Cosette's feelings towards Marius. Takes place during episode 1.04, when Cosette and Marius first meet.





	Box of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For 100fandoms. Prompt "fear."

Her smile. Bold and shy by turns, peeking around the edge of her bonnet. Her eyes, blue as dawn, dragging inexorably to the attractive young man beside her, his attention focused intensely on her. Unnoticed, the world passes by. Skirts swish. Carriages clatter.

Valjean recognizes what’s happening. He’s rarely experienced it, his life one of fear scrabbling up his throat when he least expects it, never letting himself go lest he reveal something he shouldn’t. Grabbing all he can yet always yanked back, reminded yet again of whence he came. 

But he has wanted. Desired. What man hasn’t? The moments have been rare when he let himself appreciate a woman, but they happened. A ray of light, a respite from the constant gnawing terror of returning to the hulks and the guard whose narrowed, determined gaze landed always, always, on Valjean. 

He sees it in Cosette’s eyes, the lightness, the lilt of her body, the way it bends toward the young man. She can’t help herself. The warmth in the young man’s face returns her attention. It’s all there, plain as day. Her bright hair is like gilt. 

Every fiber of Valjean’s being wants to protect her, convinced no one else can do it as well. No one else knows where she came from, what evils can befall her. He clenches tight with the knowledge and fear, his eyes riveted on the two young people. A normal scene, the park sunny, children laughing nearby. 

His heart weeps.

The spring-green trees arch over the elegant Parisians passing on either side, sedate bourgeois secure in their station. Quiet, polite conversation; fashionable clothes. They know nothing. Life is precarious, every moment must be appreciated and savored. 

Cosette tosses her head, eyes only for the young man. Cheeks peach-pink, hair the color of the sun. A vision unreal that Valjean must clutch and treasure.

It may never come again.

Valjean wants to wrench her away, hurry back to their house where the garden walls are tall and solid, Toussaint waiting silent and stolid in the shadows. He thinks of Cosette’s mother, her face pale and breath labored, her scalp scruffy, blood on her lips. He takes a deep breath. 

Cosette turns away from the young man, distracted, face clouded. The young man stares after her. He’s besotted, Valjean can see, the hope clear in his young eyes. Cosette’s brow tightens as she returns to Valjean, arms tight against her torso. Valjean lets loose his breath as she approaches. Her physical presence reassures him, no matter her feelings towards the young man. Valjean closes the gap between them, shoulder to shoulder. They turn toward home.

The late afternoon light falls golden in the green leaves above them. The city closes in as they exit the park, the streets darkening, the buildings taller and more foreboding. Cosette’s feet patter quietly on the pavement, her skirts swishing in the quiet. 

Valjean steadies himself, her presence solid next to him. She’s here, now, as always, hair golden, her face turning towards him with a silent smile. Never mind her distracted eyes, the murmuring business of the street, the heightened tension among the silent, grey people who scurry in the shadows, their furtive and fetid movements. 

He won’t give himself over to hope, nor to fear. The only thing is Cosette. He glances at her, lips turning up ever so slightly, optimistic, yet afraid. She’s all there is, but he doesn’t know how he’ll protect her. He can only plod on, as ever. The candlesticks are on the mantelpiece. The door is locked. 

What is buried will stay buried.


End file.
